


Bloom After Dawn

by Kestrealbird



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Big Sis Aranea, Fluff, Fwuffy the Behemoth, Gen, Gregory the Galdin Cat, Iggy the Iguana, Insecure Prompto, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other, Squishbeans the Couerl, Tattoos, dad cor, supportive friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-05
Packaged: 2018-12-11 13:52:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11715708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kestrealbird/pseuds/Kestrealbird
Summary: He couldn’t change what was inked on his skin. Even if he covered it, he’d always know it was there, so instead-He took a deep breath and thought of what he wanted to get and the meaning behind it.-instead he would have another tattoo joining onto it. His barcode didn’t define him, and this way he could physically prove it to himself, and to everyone else.





	Bloom After Dawn

It was a lot easier to rebuild Insomnia than anyone thought it would be. Noctis had taken command like a real King, leaving Prompto’s breath to hitch in awe at the way he commanded his people and gained their loyalty so easily. Gladiolus had stepped up to the plate and taken charge of people who wished to learn to fight, becoming an Instructor and a Commanding Officer with the grace of a Hunter. Cor had stuck around long enough for the city to be rebuilt, and then he’d decided to retire at last, and put his stubbornness on the backburner so he could have a relatively stress free life.  

Talcott had grown into a fine man during the time the world had been plunged into darkness, but it was still surprising to see him hunker down and help Iris with building new houses and roads. Cindy had taken to making new lights to keep the Daemons away at night, which made sense given the amount of fucks no one was willing to spare for them anymore. They were more of a nuisance these days then anything; like insects or something.

Despite all of this, though, some things never changed. Like Ignis having to force feed Noctis his vegetables and Gladio picking him and Noct up by the scruffs of their jackets just to make sure they didn’t wander off anywhere or sleep under a truck. 

The Chocobo post had been re-opened and Prompto had “borrowed” a motorbike to get down there as quick as possible, forgetting to leave a note -because of course he would- which sent Noctis into a panic and when they  _ had _ caught up with him, Prompto had been squatting down and holding like, 3 baby chocobos with a guilty smile upon seeing them. 

His barcode though…..

That was still a problem for him, and he still froze up when someone touched that particular wrist; he had to run and throw up once when Noct’s fingers had slipped under the wristband on accident, the reminder of what it meant and the memories that came with it were simply too much to handle. It hadn’t been Noct’s fault, of course, but his friend had still apologized and dropped everything he was doing to stay with Prompto -he didn’t have to, of course, but he wanted to, and that meant more to Prompto than anything, really. He wanted to look at it and not feel sick to his stomach; to be able to see more than just mechanical faces that were once human, covered in scourge and blood, mouths moving in silent pleading words and angry screams. 

He didn’t have to love it -he didn’t think he ever would- but he at least wanted to accept it the same way everyone else had. Well. The same way the people that mattered in his life had, at any rate. He’d always dealt with Xenophobia, but after everything had happened. Well. All it took was one Hunter to find out he was a Niff and spread that info around, and the Darkness and Daemons had become the least of his worries. Until Ignis had took him in and outright  _ snarled _ at someone because they believed Prompto shouldn’t exist. 

Things were better for him now, but there were still people -a huge amount, really, when he thought about it- who looked at him with disdain, and disgust and anger, as if he was to blame for what the Empire had done. “A Niff dog” they would say, and more than once he’d had to stop Gladio or Iris from running them through with a sword. 

He wasn’t as bothered by the words as he had been at the start, anymore. They still hurt -they always would- but he knew how to ignore them; how to remind himself that he was loved and  _ important _ to the people he cared about. 

He fiddled with his wrist band for a moment. He almost took it off, but the code-print was such an ugly mark to look at. The thought of showing it off, like some sort of statement, made his stomach turn and twist in displeasure. 

He wondered if Ignis would let him skip dinner tonight. He scoffed. Of course he wouldn't, he was too damn perceptive to just let him skip a meal without a good reason. Maybe he’d get away with a smaller portion if he was lucky. Hopefully. 

It was Iris who gave him the idea. Well she hadn't exactly told him to get it, but seeing her tattoo was the reason he thought of it to begin with. Her tattoo was on her lower back, and it was a simple crest from one of her favourite book series. That series had helped her deal with grief many a time, and it was one of the things that kept her going during the Darkness. It was a simple meaning, really, and she was a little embarrassed by it, but looking at his barcode now, Prompto wondered why he’d never thought of this before.

He couldn’t change what was inked on his skin. Even if he covered it, he’d always know it was there, so instead-

He took a deep breath and thought of what he wanted to get and the meaning behind it.

-instead he would have another tattoo joining onto it. His barcode didn’t define him, and this way he could physically prove it to himself, and to everyone else.

~~~

“You look like death, kid,” Gladio says, pulling up a chair at the table when they meet up exactly three weeks and four days after he’s gotten his tattoo done. He hasn’t told anyone about it yet, let alone shown them. He wonders if they’d really be okay with it.

“You didn’t have to deal with Dino and Vyv at the same time for four hours,” he muttered into his arms. Gladio huffs a laugh and they both look over to wave at Iris when they hear her walking towards them. Her hair is longer and scruffier now, though she’s been attempting to tame it recently, with mild success. Aside from her morbid sense of humour, she’s still the same Iris she was before the bad things happened. 

“Karma is a bitch huh?” Gladio grins at him. Iris plonks herself into the seat between them, crossing her legs and resting her chin in her hands. Gladio clicks his tongue at her slouching but she ignores his hypocrisy. 

“I left you with a coffee deprived Ignis  _ once _ -”

“Ten times actually,” Gladio mildly corrects. Prompto scowls at him and Iris laughs at them. 

“To be fair-” she grabs a doughnut from the tray and then grabs two more- “you did leave Prompto to wake up Noct every day.” 

“See?” Prompto grins, “Iris is on my side.”

“Traitor.” Gladio flicks her ear and Iris sticks her tongue out at him, devouring her doughnuts before he steals them from her in retaliation. There’s a brief moment of silence, and then the next thing he knows, Gladio and Iris are brawling in the street and attempting to steal that last doughnut from each other.

Whenever he thinks about siblings, he thinks of these two. They’re the textbook definition of siblings; they love each other more than the world itself but they’d also sell each other’s souls for one pot of Cup Noodle. His eyes land on Gladio’s forearms, where his sleeves had been pulled up, and he bites his lip as he focuses on the feathers inked onto Gladio’s skin. He wouldn’t be  _ angry _ or  _ upset _ about it would he? 

It wasn’t like Prompto had secretly gotten a tattoo done, showing his barcode off to a complete stranger despite the overwhelming fear that they’d use the needles to stab him in the eye and leave him for dead, only to sit stock still as they inked his skin and he tried not to throw up as horrific memories surfaced to the forefront of his mind. And it wasn’t like he’d gone behind everyone’s backs and ignored them for a couple weeks -causing immense stress and worry over his well being- so he could do the aftercare of said tattoo behind closed doors with only the brief, sharded memories of helping Gladio look after his own Eagle tattoo when he’d first gotten it done to help him.

He swallowed thickly as his mind raced at all the possibilities. What if the tattoo had been a mistake and he needed to get it lasered off, which meant going to see another stranger and pray they didn’t leave him bleeding on the sidewalk or-

“She started it!” He jerked back at Gladio’s voice and turned to see him pointing a finger accusingly at Iris as a woman tapped her foot impatiently at them both.

Iris crossed her arms and glared at him. “Ladies do not start fights,” she scowled, “but we can  _ finish them _ .”

Prompto laughs behind his hand at what she says, feels his wristband slip down his arm a little and freezes in place with a strained smile when he sees Gladio’s eyes cut straight to what is now visible of his new tattoo. He looks calm at least. Or he could just be suffering from silent rage.  _ Please be the first one _ .

Gladio sits down right next to Prompto, who slides down his seat and tries to subtly adjust his wristband to hide the mark. Gladio raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know you don't have to wear your KingsGlaive outfit all the time right?” He nervously squeaks, in a failed attempt at distracting him. Gladio hums and leans towards him.

“So,” he says, drawing out the ‘o’, “when did you get that done?” His voice is so forcefully casual that Prompto winces, looking anywhere but at his friend and hoping that  _ maybe _ Shiva will spare him and freeze him on the spot, like she did when he was caught in that fucking blizzard 12 years ago after he was shoved off a train - _ haha thanks for that Shiva really appreciate having frostbite on my teeth. _

“Er,” he says, because his brain hasn’t thought of a response to these questions yet and really, he probably should have practiced said responses in the mirror before bothering to meet with anyone. “How’s Fwuffy?” He asks, instead, because he really doesn't want to deal with this right now.

Gladio narrows his eyes but answers the question anyway. “She’s fine. Taking a while for people to get used to seeing a Behemoth with Dwarfism walking around the park though. Which is stupid because she’s only as big as an ordinary large dog.”

“She doesn't  _ look _ like an ordinary large dog though.”

“Sure acts like one,” Gladio grumbles, probably remembering the various times Fwuffy has tried to sit on his lap because she’s forgotten how big she is. Or because she wanted that very specific seat and Gladio wouldn’t let her have it. Either one, really. “She still loves to lick my back though. You know where my  _ tattoo _ covers most of my skin.” Prompto swallows, wetting his lips and debates whether he should try to put this off any further.

He sighs. “Three weeks and four days ago,” he mumbles, sinking into his seat like a scolded child. Gladio gives a heavy sigh, rubs his temples, then props his chin against his knuckles and looks at Prompto. As in,  _ really _ looks at him. He takes in the obvious discomfort and nerves, the way his eyes aren't looking at him, and the fact that he’s clearly expecting some sort of negative reaction. Gladio thought Prompto should know better by now, but clearly this subject is still a sore one. 

“I’m not angry you know.” Prompto gives a half shrug, sinks a little lower into his chair. “I can’t deny that I’m a little upset, though.” Gladio heaves another sigh, runs a hand through his hair and catches a few snags that weren't there earlier.  _ Thanks Iris _ , he thinks, dryly. Prompto flinches a little, so Gladio reaches out to pet his hair. When Prompto looks up at him from under his bangs, nervous yet hopeful, he feels his big brother instincts rearing their ugly heads, and resists the urge to crush him in hugs and validation. They’re in public after all, and he doesn't want to make Prompto embarrassed.

“...” 

“I’m just….upset that you didn’t come to me for help with it you know?” It sounds down right  _ weird _ now that he’s said out loud, but he can’t exactly lie either so. There it is. Out in the open for Prompto’s viewing pleasure. “I mean,” he says, “I don't care that you got it without telling us, I mean, that’s your choice you know? I just thought...that you’d trust me to keep it a secret and help with the aftercare of it. So it’s a little hurtful that you did everything on your own, is all.” He feels a blush on his face, embarrassed by his own confession, and scratches his cheek.

“I….oh.” Prompto blinks, once, twice, then smiles. It’s soft and understanding and a little sheepish. They’re both idiots really, so it’s nothing new. “Do you...want to see the whole thing?” It’s a tentative question, because he’s not sure if Gladio really  _ would _ want to see it or not.

Iris walks over to them and pouts. “Stop leaving me out,” she says, like she’s been forgotten by a team of developers in some game and hasn’t had much development because they couldn’t find a way to put her character into the later half of said game, despite how much the fans all love her and wish she’d had more screen time.

“Sorry Iris,” they say at the same time, giving her a peace offering in the form of more sweets. They can just  _ hear _ Ignis clicking his tongue in the distance somewhere.

She turns to Prompto with a small smile. “Could I see it too?” She asks. He thinks about that for a moment, looks down at his wristband and fiddles with it.  He’s never shown the mark to more than person at a time, and never for too long either. He knows they won’t be offended if he doesn’t show them at the same time but….he trusts them, really, he does. 

He doesn't give a verbal response, simply starts to unbuckle his wristband, and hides a smile when he sees Iris leaning over the table for a better look, her eyes sparkling in excitement. Gladio uses his jacket to hide what they’re doing from the public view and Prompto snorts. “You don't have to keep wearing that every day you know.”

“Hey, not everyone has the luxury of wearing casual clothing whenever they want and getting away with it,” he argues.

“Noctis does it,” Iris cheekily responds.

“He’s the King,” Gladio grumbles under his breath. 

“Shouldn't he have  _ more _ reason to be formal then?”

“Okay, you know what-” 

The sound of Prompto gently putting his wrist band on the table makes them glance down at his wrist and Iris sucks in a breath when she sees the simple, yet intricate design. A grin splits her face when she catches the meaning, and she bites her lip to try and contain it when she looks up at him, bouncing in place and squealing in glee. Gladio laughs, a low, rumbling sound, and pulls him into a one-armed hug. 

“Flowers huh? Guess that means you really are family now then.” He can’t stop the flush on his cheeks, and he pushes Gladio away with a muttered ‘shut up’, but he smiles regardless, relieved that they’ve taken it so well. 

“Omigosh that meaning is so cute and perfect and wonderful and I love it, love it, love it,” Iris spins in a circle, talking in a single breath, pointedly ignoring the people staring at her. Gladio gives them all a  _ look _ and they quickly go about their business as usual. Prompto feels his whole body tingle with warmth, and he places the wristband back where it belongs. He won't put this tattoo on display until everyone he cares about has seen it first, and even then he’ll probably still wear wristbands out of habit. 

“Wonder how Cor is gonna react?” Gladio muses. Prompto’s smile freezes on his face, his stomach dropping.  _ Oh no _ .

“And Aranea,” Iris pipes up. He buries his head in his hands and lets out a rather pitiful sound. 

Why didn’t he think that through again?

~~~

Apparently the incorrect way of reacting to the knowledge that he’d have to tell  _ Cor the Immortal AKA The Marshall AKA his unofficial Dad figure _ , was not, in fact, to lay on his floor in chocobo print boxers and a t-shirt, staring at his ceiling for thirty minutes and contemplating his entire life's decisions as he plans out all the ways he could conveniently disappear and never be found again. And then he remembers how the guys had reacted to him going to see the Chocobo’s without anyone knowing and winces because he doesn’t want to be the reason the world gets screwed over again.

Aranea is even worse to think about, because even if she’s a tough love kinda gal, the day he maybe-kinda-sorta accidentally called her his Sister she’d just bluntly announced him as her ‘Shortcake Baby Brother’ and since then she’d just been so….so....damn  _ protective _ of him. 

He’d tried to have a girlfriend, once, during the darkness, but then Aranea had smooshed his face in her hands and said she’d only accept him having a boyfriend or a girlfriend if they admitted that nobody on this damn  _ Earth _ deserved her precious brother and his stupid precious everything. Which was...probably the weirdest yet most heartwarming thing she’d ever said to him, but, yeah. Protective.

He lolls his head to the side and blinks, furrowing his brows as he stares at the front door from the gap in the kitchen door. It’s been left slightly open, but he’s sure he shut it when he came in….

Frowning, he stands up and tiptoes into the hallway, grabbing a knife from his table just in case. He swears if someone tries to rob him already he might just put them on a pike as an early Halloween decoration. They could at least have the decency to wait until he’s finished regretting every choice he’s ever made before breaking into his house. Assholes. 

A soft meow has him turning, relaxing immediately upon seeing Gregory, the cat Noct adopted from Galdin Quay, rubbing himself against a cabinet.

“Well at least now I know whose ‘broken in’ and interrupted my existential dread, huh boy?” He puts the knife away and then reaches down to fuss Gregory behind the ears, kicking his front door closed, then walks to his bedroom where he knows Noctis is going to be sprawled out on his bed.

“Oh your Majesty how kind of you to grace me with your presence!” Prompto bows at him as he enters, a grin on his lips. Noctis snickers from where he’s starfished out on the bed, dressed down in only a pair of Moogle print boxers. His hair is back to the style it was before he was sucked into a Crystal, but the facial hair is still there because Noct believes that it “adds to his rugged good looks.” 

Prompto had had facial hair once too, but he hadn't known until someone had pointed it out and then he’d gotten rid of it and with a smile he’d cheerfully told everyone they’d been imagining it because no. Just no. They’d gotten the message and the less spoken about it the better. He’d grown his hair out again too, because the shorter style was too troublesome to play with.

“You should be bowing at my feet and feeling blessed that I, King Noct-Gar of Lufish, bothered to grace you with my….amazing?” He lifted his head up to give Prompto a quizzical look. “What’s the word Specs uses?”

“Esteemed?” 

“Yes. That.” Noctis nodded.

“Your esteemed what exactly? Lack of motivation?”

Noct fell back on the bed with a groan. “Esteemed Depression more like,” he muttered.

“Ah. Did you break in for a hug, then?” His voice was soft, his feet padding over to the bed so he could sit on the edge. Noctis twisted himself around to lay his head in Prompto’s lap, sighing at the familiar feeling of deft fingers brushing through his hair and kneading his scalp. He moaned when Prompto used his other hand to massage the tension out of his lower back, which was marked with an ugly scar from his childhood.

“Mmm,” Noct hummed, “I need to make you an official Massager or whatever.”

“You mean a masseuse?” 

“Yeah.” 

He’s pretty sure Noct is beginning to fall asleep and he stretches his legs out. “Can I at least lay back against the pillows so my legs don't go dead and my back is still in one piece?”

“Nooo,” he moans, “too comfy to move.”

“Well if you don’t I’m going to shove you onto the floor.”

“That’s treason.”

“Only if you have proof.” 

Noct groans and complains, but he moves regardless, letting Prompto lay back against the pillows before he lays on top of him, arms wrapped around Prompto’s back and their legs intertwined. A hand falls back into his hair, the other one resting on his back in comfort.

Gregory jumps up on the bed with them, lays next to Prompto’s head, and starts purring loudly in an attempt to lull them both into sleep.

“Good boy,” Prompto whispers.

Noct lays his ear over Prompto’s chest so he can hear his heartbeat, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. “Where’s Squishbeans?” He asks, because he doesn't want to sleep just yet. 

“She’s around somewhere,” Prompto replies. “The people here seem to get along with her a lot easier than they do with Fwuffy.”

“Don’t see how given that she’s a Coeurl.” 

Prompto scoffs. “That’s because she’s a Princess, Noct.”

“A Princess that’s probably stealing  _ apples _ or something.”

“She has  _ class _ thank you, unlike that demon horse in Tangled.”

“Excuse you that horse has a _ name _ and he’s called Maximus, and he’s the best Guard that Kingdom ever had.”

Prompto looks down at him with a frown. “We’re not gonna have this argument again are we?”

“Only if you want to lose again,” Noct grins.

“Uh, no, buddy, Ignis came in before we could solve it.”

“Yeah but I got the last word in before he did, therefore, I win.” Noctis grins up at him, and if he wasn't so damn comfy Prompto would smother him with a pillow.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand in a dismissive manner, then watches as Noct sits up to look down at him, head tilted to one side and his hands supporting his weight. “Ah,” Prompto says, holding his wrist up so Noctis can see the new tattoo, “sorry. Probably should’ve told you about it.”

Noct’s face becomes soft, understanding, and he flops back down again, a smile on his face. “As long as you’re happy with it, then we’ll be happy with it.”

His voice is uncharacteristically small when he asks, “even Cor and Aranea?”

Noctis hums an affirmative and when Prompto looks down at him, he’s already drifted off to sleep. “Really,” he huffs turning to Gregory, whose sprawled on his back, sleeping like the dead. “You’re both terrible.”

He looks up at his ceiling again, contemplating whether he should go visit Aranea in person or not, and closes his eyes with a sigh. Why is it so hard to make a decision sometimes?

He makes a mental list of the Pros and Cons of both choices.

_ Visit Aranea in person: Pros: We see each other for the first time in months. We get along great! We drive Loqi up the nearest wall and out the window! Cons: I see her disappointed and/or angry response when she sees the tattoo. I ruin our relationship forever and am no longer capable of being in the same room as her because she might use her lance to gouge my face off. _

_ Phoning her: Pros: Hearing her voice, explaining what the tattoo looks like, and distracting her from existential dread. Cons: I panic over the phone, she suddenly hates my very existence and she slams her phone into the ground, not caring that she’s breaking it, for added dramatic effect. _

He groaned in defeat and let out a pitiful whine. “Why is this so hard to do?”

He was ready to just curl up under a rock somewhere when his phone went off, and he looked to find a message from Aranea. It was a selfie of her doing a peace sign, and in the background he could see Biggs with his head stuck in a barrel, and Wedge trying to pull him out by his legs. 

[Aranea]: Still alive and kicking, Shortcake 

A cat-like smiley face followed the text and Prompto chuckled. He hadn’t heard from her for a while, so it was nice to know that she was doing okay back in Niflheim with the clean up.

[Prompto]: I don't know….you look kinda dead to me, with the circles under your eyes and that weird gremlin thing behind you….

[Aranea]: Don’t be rude. He’s just Loqi

[Prompto]: Ah, sorry, hard to tell sometimes with all that spiky armour lol

[Aranea]: Well   
               Biggs  _ did _ just flip him off sooooo

[Prompto]: Omfg really?

[Aranea]: Ye

[Prompto]: Remind me to high-five him for that when I see him again

[Aranea]: Will do

He smiled down at the messages, contemplating on what to say when,

[Aranea]: Does Glasses Nerd still have that pompadour?

She sends an unimpressed emoji and Prompto can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

[Prompto]: Nah, Iggy only styled his hair like that to see how Noct would react

[Aranea]: Oh?

[Prompto] *shrug* there wasn’t much of one so he was disappointed at first

[Aranea]: “At first”

Prompto grinned.

[Prompto]: Ya. Turns out Noct just didn’t know how to respond cuz if that  _ was _ Iggy’s new hair-do he didn’t wanna insult him or anything

[Aranea]: So he was needlessly agonizing over it for days then?

[Prompto]: Pretty much yeah

[Aranea]: Idiot

[Prompto]: Well he  _ is _ a Chocobro

[Aranea]: You know you’re a Chocobro too, right?

[Prompto]: I have never denied what I am, Aranea

She sent a photo of Biggs finally freed from the barrel and holding Loqi in a headlock.

[Aranea]: I better sort this out

[Prompto]: Hey, um

[Aranea]: ??

It was now or never, he supposed. He snapped a photo of his wrist and sent it to her.

[Prompto]: I got a new tattoo?

He bit his lip and waited anxiously for her reply. Ten minutes went by when he got a text.

[Aranea]: This is Biggs. I took Lady A’s phone cuz she’s currently bragging about her ‘amazin’, lovely perfect lil brother’ to anyone who’ll listen. She’s really proud of ya. Also Wedge just downed an entire bottle of Vidka to deal with her sudden Big Sister Pride so there’s that.

[Prompto]: Wedge is an actual Devil omg, Vidka is an actual alcohol of  _ death _

[Aranea]: What do you expect from the Niff equivalent of Vodka?

[Prompto]: True

[Aranea]: Lady A’s getting out of hand. See ya around brat

Prompto’s smile stretched from ear to ear, and he gazed fondly at his phone before sending a simple waving emoji back. He’d worried over nothing. Typical. 

He runs a hand through his hair and winces at the feel of dirt. “Okay,” he sighs, “time for a bath.” He shakes Noct’s shoulder and ignores his mumbled “five more hours”. “Noct, buddy, my dude, I need a bath so if you could, like, move that’d be great, thanks.”

Noct cracks his eyes open to stare blearily at Prompto, then huffs in disdain. “Shoulda done that before I broke in, then.”

Prompto frowns, poking Noct’s sides. “I was having a  _ crisis _ , Noct.”

“Have a crisis in the bath next time,” he grumbles, yawning into Prompto’s shirt and burying his head into Prompto’s shoulder, drifting back to sleep. 

“You’re impossible,” he says, but there’s an undeniable fondness in his voice. Sleep sounds nice right about now, actually. He yawns aswell, shuffling to get comfier on the bed, and turns his head so he can bury his nose in Gregory’s fur. 

He isn’t sure when he falls asleep, but a very specific ringtone wakes him up. 

‘Doot, Doot, It’s the sound of da police’ blares from his phone as he blinks the sleep out of his eyes. Noctis doesn't stir but Gregory looks like he might shove the phone onto the floor if it doesn’t stop  _ making noise _ .

He’s so tired it takes him a moment to recognize who that ringtone belongs to, and the only reason he doesn't bolt upright at the realization is the fact that Noct’s weight is holding him in place.  _ Fricking octopus limbs, _ he thinks. He answers his phone with fumbling fingers, and tries to cough the sleep out of his voice.

“‘Ey C’r.” It didn’t work. Dammit. 

“ _ I heard you got a new tattoo. _ ”

A curse flew past his lips. Couldn’t anyone keep their mouths shut for, like, one day at least?

_ Aranea’s been bragging to anyone who’ll listen and  _ -he groaned-  _ Cor would definitely listen _ .

“...was it Aranea who told you?”

_ “It was, yes.” _

Oh joy. 

“How  _ much _ did she tell you exactly?”

_ “She showed me screenshots of your whole conversation.” _

“Oh my god,” he whispered, “I want to die. Can I die now, Cor? Please?”

_ “Pretty sure His Majesty made that illegal.” _

And wow it was still weird to hear Cor calling Noctis ‘His Majesty’.

“Are you….mad about it?”  _ please say no, please say no, please say no _ .

“ _ Why would I be mad? I’m...really proud of you for doing this, Prompto. _ ”

Proud…..

When had Prompto’s parents ever said that to him? The one thing he’d always wanted to do, was make his parents proud, and he was never good enough. And yet, right now, Cor was proud of him. 

Tears sprung to his eyes, and he sniffed, wiping them away with a watery laugh. “You’re proud of me?” Cor didn’t notice the crack in his voice, and if he did he simply chose to ignore it.

_ “I’ve always been proud of you, son.”  _

“How dare you. I’m going to cry.”

_ “I’ll buy you a Chocobo to make up for it. A real one, I mean.”  _ In the background, Prompto could hear Dave yelling that no, he wouldn't, because Squishbeans was enough of a pain, and Prompto didn’t need another pet.

“I don’t think Dave agrees with that.”

_ “Dave is a coward and a fool.”  _ An indigent “I am right behind you!” was shouted at the phone. Prompto laughed, causing Noct to stir in his sleep. He shushed him quickly, smiling as he watched his friend nuzzle back against his chest.

He could hear Cor arguing with Dave over the benefits of buying a Chocobo, and he felt his heart warm up with contentment.

“Hey dad?” 

Cor’s voice returned to him, Dave grumbling curses in the background _. “Yeah, son?” _

“Thank you...for being there all this time,” he whispered, fingers twitching in Noct’s hair.

_ “That’s what dad’s are for.” _ He heard the grin in Cor’s voice and laughed quietly. They bid their goodbyes to each other, and the moment his phone cut off, Noct’s hand snapped up and grabbed the device, switching it off and throwing is at the bottom of the bed.

“Go the fuck to sleep,” he growled. 

“Sure thing, buddy.” Prompto’s smile was undoubtedly soft; warmth and love melting the cold anxiety that had settled in his chest.

~~~

Prompto skipped down the Citadel’s hallways, humming a song under his breath, and ignoring the startled looks at his casual attire. As if they’d never seen a Moogle Hoodie with a Chocobo Hood before.

…

Scratch that, they probably hadn’t. Okay the looks made more sense now than his actual  _ clothing _ did now that he thought about it.

He shook his head. 

He hadn’t come here to impress anyone, anyway. He’d heard that Ignis was back from Tenebrae and just chilling in his office (not the exact words but same diff, really), so what better time to visit him then right now when he was supposed to be filing paperwork! At least he’d done  _ some _ of it, unlike Iris who’d taken one look at the workload then ‘conveniently’ remembered she had something else to do and jumped out the window before anyone could stop her. 

They grow up so fast.

He rounded a corner and beamed when he saw Iggy’s office door open. The place was immaculate as ever, with velvet sofa’s circled around an oak wood table. His desk was underneath the window, paperwork neatly stacked on top of it, and the left wall was overtaken by a huge bookcase crammed with all sorts of stories, facts and records. Also decorative knives. 

Ignis’ hair was slicked back, but the spikes still insisted on defying gravity and hovering over his head.

Ignis turned at the sound of Prompto rapping out a tune against his doorframe, even though he’d probably heard him walking up the hall, and smiled. Iggy (a little Iguana Ignis had adopted a couple years back) was stretched out on the window, bathing in sunlight.

“Hey Iggy,” Prompto held his hand up in a wave, even though Ignis couldn’t see it.

“Are you talking to me or the Iguana?” He joked. 

“Yes.”

Ignis walked towards Prompto, a soft smile on his face, and he gestured to the sofa’s.They sat down next to each other, turning so they could be face to face.

“It’s good to see you again, Prompto.”

He scratched the back of his head nervously, cheeks heating up. “You’ve been pretty busy, huh?”

“Never too busy for a visit I hope,” he scolded.

Prompto winced. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“It’s quite alright.” Iggy crawled up the sofa and wrapped themselves around Ignis’ neck like a scarf. “Squishbeans was here earlier.”

Prompto perked up. “Oh?”

“She scared the life out of one of the maids.”

Prompto laughed nervously, shifting guiltily in his seat. “For the third time this week.”

Ignis gave him a blank look. “It’s only Monday.”

“I know. Try telling  _ her _ that.”

“The least you could do is put a bell on her.” Ignis reached up to scratch Iggy’s chin.

“She doesn’t like the sound they make,” Prompto sniffed. 

“You just enjoy tormenting people.” He watched as Ignis opened up a tin of biscuits and waited patiently to be given the go ahead to try one.

“Well, duh.” He picked up a cookie with vanilla icing and cherries on it.

“How do they taste?”

Prompto moaned in response. Ignis chuckled. “These are so good,” he said, “is it a new recipeh?”

“Why do you insist on saying it like that?” Ignis sighed and looked toward the heavens.

“Because it’s funny.”

“I said it like that  _ once _ ,” Ignis scowled, “and I don’t even remember doing so.”

Prompto wagged a finger at him. “That’s what makes it funny.”

“Keep wagging your finger and I’ll bite it off.” He showed off his -admittedly rather sharp- teeth to prove the point.

“You can’t even see it!”

“Just because I’m blind doesn't mean I don’t know what you’re doing.”

Prompto scoffed. “You’re just a freaking psychic or something.” Ignis shrugged. Prompto narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. “Are you a psychic?”

“Who knows?” Ignis replied, mildly. 

“Ignis!” 

A chuckle met his ears and he puffed out his cheeks. 

“The weight of your shoes on the floor sounds different today,” Ignis mused.

“Ignis don’t you dare-!” 

Ignis reached out and put a hand on his head, cheshire grin taking over his face. “Did you get smaller again?”

He knew damn well Prompto wore lifts to make himself taller the jerk!

He whacked Ignis in the face with a cushion, irritated by his muffled laughter. 

Gods he’d missed hearing Ignis’ laughter during those dark years. Not the chuckles that would sometimes fall past his lips, but his full, unhidden, laughter that made him clutch at the nearest surface to keep himself upright. 

“Did you hear about my new skin art?” He put the cushion on his lap so he could wrap his arms around it. 

“It’s hard not to when that’s all everyone is talking about.” He didn’t sound annoyed or accusing, if anything he sounded...relieved, probably, that nobody had been seriously hurt in his absence.

He hesitated briefly, and then thumbed his wristband off, dropping onto the table with a dull clink. “Do you want to see it?” 

Ignis frowned. “Prompto you know I can’t-” his sentence cut off into a sharp intake of breath as Prompto took his hand and placed it over the marked wrist. He’d asked numerous times in the past if he could be allowed to touch this wrist; to feel the damage for himself, and each time Prompto had refused, his voice sounding hurt and on the verge of tears. 

He could feel the slight raise on the skin, undoubtedly where the tattoo’s were, and his breath hitched involuntarily at the amount of  _ trust _ Prompto was putting in his touch. The fact that Prompto, despite all his insecurities and doubts and self-deprecating thoughts, was trusting Ignis to touch his wrist -was trusting him to touch and not inflict an ounce of pain or discomfort- caused tears to well in his one good eye, and he had to force them back so he could focus on the slight details he could feel under his fingertips.

“Could you….tell me what it looks like?” His voice was quiet, barely a whisper, as his fingers stroked back and forth over where he assumed the mark on the wrist to be. He felt the skin under his fingers heat up, and then Prompto was showing him where the barcode began and where it ended, murmuring a small “it’s here” so Ignis could get a view of the size in his mind.

Gods he wished he could see this all for himself; wished he could see just how far Prompto’s self-acceptance had come with his own eyes, rather than hear it through word of mouth. Past events could neither be altered nor changed, so he would simply have to make do with what he had. No matter how much he wished things were different. 

Prompto’s voice, shaky yet strong, brought him back to the present, and he focused his attention on the words flowing from Prompto’s soft lips.

“It’s, um, a couple of Morning Glories. There’s a black one and a blue one at, like, the top of my barcode and the petals rest over the barcode itself? And in the bottom corner there’s a white Morning Glory with purple shading in the centre and the stalks of them all, like, curl around the barcode? Kind of like it’s being hugged, I guess. It wasn’t a split second decision, but I got it done before I could back out and, well, I don’t  _ regret _ getting it or anything, but the meaning is probably really dumb and-”

“Prompto,” he shut his mouth with a click, “Morning Glories mean ‘glorious beauty’ correct?” He bit his lip and nodded. Ignis’ smile widened. “Then I’m glad that you’re finally beginning to see yourself the way we do.”

He flushed. “Ignis...you’re…”

“Hm?”

“Such a goddamn  _ sap _ , Shiva’s Tits, don’t you ever get embarrassed saying that stuff!?” 

Ignis gave him a truly innocent look. Prompto muttered a few curses under his breath. “Do you mind if I ask why you used those specific colours?”

“Oh...well...um-” he rubbed the back of his neck, a blush staining his cheeks and eyes cast to the side- “black and blue are the Lucian colours right? So….I thought it’d be nice to have that reminder there, since you guys keep telling me I’m as much a Lucian as the rest of you are and all. As for the white one, well,” he paused for a moment, a bittersweet expression on his face, “it’s for Luna and Ravus. A way to thank them, I guess.”

Ignis looked startled. “I...understand why you would want to thank Miss Luna but I don’t recall Ravus ever….” he trailed off, confusion evident on his face.

“Oh,” Prompto said, softly, “I never told you, did I?”

“Told me what?” Ignis furrowed his brows, mouth drawn down into a frown.

“You know how...when I was separated from you all I ran into Aranea right?”

“Before you got to Zegnautus?” Prompto nodded. “Yes. Why?”

“Well, when I was on my way to Zegnautus I...came across Ravus and we travelled the rest of the way together.” He paused here, to gauge Ignis’ reaction. After a moment, his friend gestured for him to continue. “I wouldn’t say we were friends, exactly, but we did bond; he helped me out when my meds ran out and I couldn’t-” he swallowed- “and I couldn’t focus on anything and needed something to bring me down from the panic you know?” A soft smile graced his features, and Ignis didn’t need his sight when he could hear such a smile in his voice. 

“He was so nice about the whole thing. Awkward-” he laughed- “but nice. And then one day, as we’re travelling there’s this -this huge storm, you know? So we end up cuddling for warmth in this cave somewhere, and I wake up cuz Ravus is having this nightmare right? So I calm him down and for some reason I kiss his forehead because it just seems  _ right _ , you know?” He shook a little, swallowing but his voice still cracked. “And he must’ve thought I was Luna because he hugged me close and he just -he started  _ apologising _ for so much crap Iggy. From some little thing like stealing her hairbands, all the way to helping Niflheim and he was just so  _ sad  _ and  _ hurt _ . He kept saying how he should've listened; should've helped her with the covenants. I think....I think he blamed himself for her death, because he wasn't there for her."

Ignis put a hand around his shoulders, pulling him in for a hug, and started rocking back and forth in a soothing motion. “She never got to hear that apology, Ignis,” he whispered, “he never got to meet Noct again and give him that sword. He deserved better than that and I just!” He sniffed, trying to hold back a sob, “I just wish he’d gotten a chance to redeem himself. I really think we would’ve been friends. He didn’t deserve any of that. None of them did.”

Ignis’ fingers carded through his hair, nails scraping his head in a soothing manner. “In all honesty,”  he says, “I doubt I would’ve gotten along with him. However, had you become friends I would have...tolerated his presence for you.” It’s a hard thing for him to say, Prompto knows, because his face is pinched around his mouth and the fingers in his hair twitch inwards, as if he wants to hold a knife just so he can distract himself with the feeling of that weight in his hand.

So Prompto smiles, nuzzles closer to his chest, lifts his hand to tangle his fingers in Ignis’ necklace and says “thank you.” Iggy slips off Ignis’ shoulders, lays across their laps and puts their tail around Prompto’s wrist. 

If Squishbeans walks in with a blanket in her mouth and falls asleep at their feet, well, the people here don't kiss and tell, do they?

**Author's Note:**

> It took me weeks to finish but here it is at last! Gregory is the name Luci gave the cat in Galdin and now it's canon to me.
> 
> I chose Morning Glories because I wanted to show Prompto finally realizing that he's long since bloomed into someone beautiful, regardless of where is life started.


End file.
